Family Matters
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Nog is startled by a certain Sisko family ritual. Jake explains.


Family Matters

By Laura Schiller

Based on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Copyright: Paramount

Jake and Nog were listening to a famous (and to Human ears, very dreadful) aria from the classic Klingon opera _The Fall of Kang_, ostensibly so they could 'discuss' it together afterwards, but really to commiserate about the dreadfulness of it all. Mrs. O'Brien was on an alien culture kick – apparently some Bajoran parents had complained that her curriculum was biased toward Earth. Therefore it was something of a relief to Jake when his father walked into the living room, grimaced at the sound of a particularly high vibrato note from the sound system, and dropped a goodbye kiss on the top of his son's head.

"I'm off to have dinner with that terraformer," he said, smoothing down his crisp uniform. "You two behave yourselves, all right? See you later."

"Bye, Dad."

As Commander Sisko strodeout into the corridor, Jake caught the eye of his guest and noticed with some confusion that Nog's eyes had gone round in utter astonishment.

"Computer, pause. What _was_ that?" he asked, gesturing first to Jake, then to the closed doors the Commander had just walked through.

Jake curled up a little tighter in his sofa corner, arms wrapped around his knees. "What?" he said tersely. "Don't Ferengi parents kiss their children?"

"No! I thought … isn't that a Human mating ritual?"

Jake blushed. "Kisses on the _lips_ are a mating ritual, Nog. Other places on the face are for other kinds of relationships – friends or family. What's up?"

Nog's round face had creased into a frown of distaste. "You, uh … you don't expect _me_ to kiss you anywhere … do you, Jake?"

Jake froze for a second – then burst out laughing. Much as he liked Nog, the thought of those pointy little teeth anywhere near his face was disgusting enough to be funny – not to mention the fact that grubs were a Ferengi delicacy.

"_You?_ Aw, hell no!"

Nog let out a dramatic sigh of relief.

"So yeah," said Jake, once he had calmed down enough to speak, "It's true that Human guys don't kiss each other that often – unless they're homosexual, which is rare. Or unless they're family, like my dad and me. Dad didn't used to do it either … before … "

He caught himself and glanced over at Nog, whose face was once more lit up with avid curiosity. Maybe telling this story would not be a good idea.

"Before what?" asked Nog. "Go on!"

An amused voice at the back of Jake's mind pointed out that this sort of thing was just why he liked to hang out with Nog. The other boy seemed to be in a permanent state of excitement, like a puppy on the chase – whether it was after a girl, a business opportunity, or a bit of information, such as now.

"It's kind of private," he said. "I don't mind telling you … we're buddies, after all … but I'd rather not hear it all over the station, okay?"

The common cliché was that no Ferengi could be trusted farther than you can throw him, and sometimes not even then. Jake, however, refused to buy into that. He _couldn't_ be best friends with a boy who couldn't keep his secrets.

Nog tilted his head and watched Jake narrowly, as if guessing what he was thinking.

"Hey, man," he said firmly. "I work at a bar, remember? I know how to keep my mouth shut."

Jake leaned back against the sofa cushions and looked up at the ceiling. At the very least, if Nog told, it was nothing to be ashamed of.

"My mom used to hug and kiss me a lot," he said quietly. "She had this thing about kissing me on the forehead every night when I went to bed. To prevent nightmares, she said. When I was a bit older, like nine or ten, I started to think it was silly – I complained that she was treating me like a baby. She just laughed and did it anyway."

It was strange, how telling a story could make memories come alive. He could hear that laugh, feel the brush of her long black hair against his cheeks, smell her jasmine perfume.

"Then she died. It was four years ago, at Wolf 359 – I saw it happen. I had awful dreams about it for weeks – the doctors gave me sedatives, but it didn't help much."

He did not describe the full, soul-scarring impact of those days and nights – the hole that death leaves, the absence as of an amputated limb. For one thing, he didn't believe he could do it justice with words – for another, he still had _some _dignity left.

"Then one night, Dad just sat down by my bed and kissed me on the forehead – like you saw, just now. He didn't say anything – there wasn't anything to say, really – we just knew. And after that, he started giving me hugs and everything, just like Mom used to. And it's not like I _stopped_ missing her, of course I didn't! I'll always miss her. But the nightmares went away."

He looked up, almost surprised to find himself back in his cream-colored living room on Deep Space Nine, on a red sofa, with a glass-topped coffee table in front of him and Nog curled up on the opposite end of said sofa.

"Whoa," said Nog, slowly shaking his head.

His un-human face could be difficult to read at times, but Jake could have sworn there was compassion in his eyes.

"By the way, Nog … what about _your_ mom?" he asked. "I've never met her."

"You won't," said Nog, sneering, with just a hint of a catlike hiss underscoring his words. "We Ferengi don't take our females with us when we go off-world."

That certainly explained Quark and Rom's pursuit of the incongruously tall, pale, small-lobed Dabo girls, Jake noted to himself. If you can't get what you want, want what you get. How typically practical.

"So do you write to her?" Jake inquired, biting back a speech about gender equality he had already made several times and to which Nog refused to listen. "Or talk with her on subspace?"

"Nope."

"Mind telling me why?"

Jake admitted to feeling a little bit stung. If Nog was really lucky enough to have a mother who was still alive, why weren't they communicating?

"Because she's such a bitch," said Nog matter-of-factly.

_What?!_

"She's the smartest female on our whole homeworld," said Nog, with an odd mixture of pride and bitterness, "But she's still a bitch. She broke Father's heart and cleaned out his bank account, and guess what was the only item she left behind?"

Jake had never thought of himself as particularly sheltered or naïve. He was a "fleet brat" after all, living on a space station notorious for its unpredictable events. But he had never, outside of books and holovids, heard of a woman who would treat her own child that way.

He couldn't bring himself to speak.

"That's right," said Nog, bristling in defiance. "Me. And I say, good riddance. Father and I are better off alone – we can cope with anything. So quit staringat me, will you?"

He snapped his fingers in Jake's face, startling a laugh out of him.

"I'd say your dad got the better end of the deal," he said, meaning every word.

Nog snorted at the sentimental idea, but couldn't help smiling all the same. "That's what he said, too."

=/\=

When Nog got back to Quark's Bar that evening, the only being left inside it was a dejected Rom, mopping the floor as punishment for giving away yet another free drink to a pretty girl. He only grunted as his son walked by him on the way to their quarters.

Nog stopped, looked over his shoulder, walked a few steps back, and reached out a small hand to ever-so-lightly pat his father's shoulder.

"What was that?" asked Rom, almost in Nog's exact words.

"Good night, Father," said Nog, tossing a grin over his shoulder as he left.


End file.
